Second Sight
by Annonie
Summary: AU. Puberty is hard enough without throwing visions and telekinesis into the mix.
1. Part 1

Hello everyone! This is my Secret Santa present to Refur! ...yes I do realize it's a tad bit late and the whole thing isn't even posted. But there are only two parts and the second part will be posted tomorrow. So I guess it's more of a "Happy Boxing Day!" than a "Merry Christmas!"

And my personal apologies to Refur. But hopefully this is what your were looking for. Part of the reason why it took me so long was that I originally had three different outlines and I had to choose of how exactly I wanted this story to go. So please tell me what you think.

**Part 1:**

It wasn't his mom. The dark hair and ethnic skin gave that much away, plus the small mole on her right cheek. But she was pinned to the ceiling the same way his mom was.

Blood dripped from her stomach as she breathed her child's name.

He knew what was going to happen. The horrifying tale of the demon had been engraved in his mind since he was a toddler. But as fire spewed from behind the woman, flames scorching her frail skin, Sam suddenly knew with a sickening clarity what exactly his mom had endured.

Unable to look away, he continued to stare up at the dying woman., somehow knowing there was nothing he could do for her.

The fire demon claimed one more victim. And for the second time in his short life, Sam had front row seats.

"Sammy!"

The scenery flashed rapidly between the horror-struck woman and his own dingy ceiling.

"Sam, wake up!"

Finally getting out of the demon's hold, Sam snapped open his tear-filled eyes. The image of the burning mother scorched in his brain, Sam merely looked at his own ceiling, not believing it was merely a dream. In all of his fourteen years, he couldn't remember ever having such a vivid nightmare.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty."

Snapping out of his trance, Sam rolled his head to the side to find his brother packing his clothes into his well-worn backpack. The image only meant one thing: his dad must have found another lead on the demon and they were off…once again. And by the looks of it, Sam didn't even have time to say goodbye to all of his newly made friends.

The picture of the dying woman still fresh in his mind, Sam couldn't muster the energy to complain about leaving his school and friends behind. His dad wouldn't have listened to him anyway. Sam merely groaned, mentally preparing himself for another long day in the car with Dean.

Hearing the moan, Dean picked up Sam's large gym bag and tossed it on the boy. "Get packing," he ordered, never bothering to look up from his own backpack. "Dad wants us ready in ten minutes."

"'Nother lead?" Sam slurred as he stretched his worn muscles. He already knew the answer, but it never hurt to ask. His tired mind refused to believe that the demon struck the same night he envisioned the demon's damage.

"Yeah. Only the next state over too." Dean commented as he zipped up his backpack. He carelessly slung it over his shoulder and headed towards the door. "Seriously, Dude, Dad's gonna be pissed if you're not ready in ten minutes, so hurry it up," he warned as he closed the door.

True to Dean's word, seven minutes later, John's voice echoed down the hall. "Sam, get a move on it!"

Stuffing his last sweater into the bag, Sam muttered, "Ten minutes my ass."

As if impossibly hearing Sam's disrespectful comment, John yelled louder, "Sam!"

Sam rolled his eyes. Leave it to his dad to have the ears of a bat. "Coming!" he called as he jogged down the hallway. Sam wasn't surprised to see his father already walking out the door with Dean close behind, like his father's personal lap dog. Catching up to the two of them, Sam fell in tow with Dean. As he walked towards the car, he instantly noticed the newspaper clutched under Dean's arm. "'Electrical fire?'" he genuinely asked. Nothing else seemed to spark the need for such a sudden hunt. The Winchesters learned long ago that an 'electrical fire' in a nursery usually meant the demon was close by.

"As always," Dean answered with a click of the tongue. Sensing Sam's interest, he handed the paper over as he threw his belongings in the back seat.

Sam flipped the paper over, his eyes immediately going wide with horror. He didn't need to read the text or her name. He had already seen enough.

It was the same woman from his dream. Same thick hair. Same dark skin. Same cute, little mole on the right cheek.

Sam barely made it to the grass before he threw up.

-:-

It was a week after Thanksgiving and Sam was still eating turkey. Dean entered a chicken wing eating contest at the nearest greasy spoon restaurant. Dean ate seventy-five chicken wings and won a twenty-five pound turkey. Which was kind of ironic, considering after that night Dean had sworn off all poultry. Sam couldn't blame him though. He had almost gotten sick just watching his brother scarf down all those wings.

Sam and Dean had just gotten back from school, only to find the dingy apartment empty. Sam decided to make himself a sandwich, while Dean conveniently found something else to do in his bedroom, away from the smell of turkey.

Sandwich in hand, Sam sat down at the kitchen table and pulled out his latest math assignment. Honors Algebra II was a real bitch. It didn't help he was one out of three freshman in the class, making him an easy target for snide remarks. He slowly chewed his turkey and mustard sandwich as he flipped through the pages, finding his latest assignment. Complete the Square…great, because he was just hoping he could spend two hours on his math homework that night. Rolling his eyes, Sam pulled out his notebook and labeled the top of the page.

As he managed to complete the first three problems, he finished his turkey sandwich. Crumpling the paper plate into a ball, he tossed his garbage in the nearby trashcan, never moving from his seat.

The moment the garbage hit the trashcan dead on, Dean appeared in the doorway. "You should try out for the NBA. Who knows? You may still have a growth spurt or two left in you."

Sam glanced up at his brother, unable to hide his smile. He was already almost as tall as Dean, another growth spurt would definitely put him over the edge. Clearing his throat, he swallowed his last bit of turkey with a swig of coke. "Do you have like a turkey-free sensor or something?" Sam sarcastically asked as he started the fourth problem.

"I don't know what your talking about," Dean answered as he casually sat down in the chair across from Sam.

Sam smirked at Dean's response as he worked out the ridiculously long equation. "You always manage to disappear whenever there's poultry around. Only to show up again the moment it's gone."

Dean simply raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "You're crazy."

"Yeah, whatever," he shrugged, focusing back on the problems in front of him. As Sam jotted down the problem, the paper blurred in front of him. Squinting, he tried to get his eyes to focus, only to have the numbers shift and double.

"You need glasses there, Sammy?" Dean grinned, completely oblivious to Sam's confusion. "It would complete the whole geek setup you have there."

He didn't bother to answer his brother's comment. He was too busy trying to get his eyes to work. The paper disappeared as a bright white light flashed before his eyes.

A searing pain attacked his brain. It was as if someone had reached into his head and was pulling his brain apart bit by bit. "Ahh…" he groaned as he grabbed the bridge of the nose, trying to control the sharp throb.

The sarcasm instantly left Dean's voice. "Sammy?"

God, what the hell was going on? He had read about aneurysms in his biology class, but he never imagined one would be so painful. Plus, he was too young and healthy to have an aneurysm…wasn't he?

It felt like his nerve endings were being ripped apart. Bunching his fist, he cracked his pencil in half and pounded on the table. "God…my head…" Sam breathed. He instantly felt warm hands around him, guiding him front the chair and onto the floor.

And in a flash the pain was gone.

Dean was there, but they weren't in their apartment anymore. He knew that much. It was too dark and damp for it to be their apartment. Dean was on the floor, staring up at him, but not really seeing him. He seemed to be looking straight through him, as if he was…

That was when he noticed the blood. It was a single shot wound in the chest. Dark blood was pooling beneath Dean. But Dean was unaware, he wasn't even blinking.

Please, dear God, not Dean. Anyone but Dean.

The scene shifted with a bright light. For a moment, he thought maybe he was dying too.

With a gasp, Sam opened his eyes. For the first time in what seemed to be forever, he could see everything clearly. Dean was right in front of him, worry plastered all over his face. But Sam didn't care, because Dean was looking straight at him and there was life in his eyes. "…Dean," Sam whispered as he lunged at his brother and wrapped his arms around.

Quickly returning the gesture, Dean breathed, "God, Sammy. What just happened?"

-:-

"A vision? As in a premonition?" Disbelief licked Dean's voice. They always said there was a thin line between genius and insanity, he just never thought Sam would cross it.

Shifting his feet beneath himself on the couch, Sam continued to look at his hands. "Look, I know how it sounds but…" Sam trailed off, his logic trailing with it. "I don't know how to describe it. It just felt so real." As he breathed the last word, he looked up, his eyes still bright with tears. The vision may have been a bitch to deal with and even worse to see, but if it meant he could save his brother he would do it again in a heartbeat.

Dean scrubbed his hand over his face. Only in his freaky ass family would a premonition seem plausible. "As real as the dream with the demon?" He had almost forgotten about the trail they followed a couple months back. They had traveled five hours only to find a grieving family with questions that were never going to be answered.

"Even more," Sam answered in earnest.

There was no way Sammy was having premonitions. Not under Dean's watch. If Sam started to have visions, that meant he wasn't normal. Sure the kid may have been a bit strange, but he was Sammy, Dean's little brother, and that meant he was normal. "Goddammit Sammy! Why didn't you tell me about this beforehand?!" Dean screamed, throwing his hands up in the air. If he knew about it earlier then maybe there was something he could have done to stop it. Stop Sam from being something beyond normal…in a realm they dealt with everyday. In a realm he hunted everyday.

Pulling his lanky frame closer to himself, Sam softly answered, "I thought it was just a coincidence." He knew Dean was lashing out because he was worried, but that didn't make it any less scary.

Running his hands through his hair, Dean yelled in disbelief, "You should know better than to think there are coincidences in this family!"

Sam instantly jumped to his feet. "Exactly!" he shouted, finding his inner courage. "I saw you dead today for a reason! We have to stop it!"

Dean opened his mouth to respond but was instantly cut off by the sound of the key entering the door. "That's Dad," he whispered, moving closer to Sam. "Don't say anything about this to him." He didn't know how his father would feel about young Sammy having premonitions about demons and death. Hell, he didn't know how _he _felt about.

Sam stared at Dean in disbelief. How was his father going to help them if he didn't know about it? "But-" Sam instantly closed his mouth at Dean's look of _don't-make-me-kick-your-ass_. Shaking his head incredulously, Sam stormed off to his room and slammed the door behind him.

John opened the door to the sound of another door slamming. Without even looking, he knew who was behind it. "What's his problem now?" he sighed, turning towards his oldest son.

"Got me," Dean shrugged, the lie easily slipping off his lips.


	2. Part 2

So um...I finished this last night and then the computer shut down...for no apparant reason. And while I was booting it back up again a pack of rabid racoons came into my house and attacked the monitor. For no good reason! I mean I still don't even know how they got in there. So then I had to go to Comp USA and get a monitor but the only one available for my computer was in Italy. So I got on the next flight to Italy when the plane went down because the mechanical failure. Somehow I survived, got my monitor, and restarted my computer.

Okay, so that was a total lie. But a lot more interesting than what actually happened...which was I fell asleep at the desk while writing this last night. Points for creativity?

Thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed. Please tell me what you think. Especially Refur, after all it's for you! Well, anyway, here it is.

**Part Two:**

"Sam," the teacher stated, standing expectedly at the board. When there was no response, a few giggles echoed throughout the cramped classroom. "Samuel," Mrs. Howard repeated with an edge. If there was one thing she hated it was students dozing off in her class.

Snapping out of his daze, Sam lifted his head up to see over the tall junior in front of him. "Could you please repeat the question?"

"Only if you start paying attention in class," Mrs. Howard sternly answered.

Sam could feel the blood rushing to his face as thirty students turned to look at him. Shrinking into his seat, Sam meekly nodded and prayed to God he had the right answer in order to redeem himself.

"Could you please work out number twenty-seven on the board?" she asked, all venom gone from her voice, gesturing to the blackboard behind her.

"Yes, Ma'am."

Ignoring the smirks from the upperclassmen, Sam quickly approached the board. He glanced up at the equation and smiled when he realized there was a problem almost identical to it in the homework. The answer already formulating in his mind, he confidently picked up a piece of chalk and started working out the equation on the board.

On his way to achieving the correct answer, a sharp pain sliced through his head. Impulsively, he brought his hand to the bridge of his nose, hoping to cut off the migraine before it acclimated into a full blown vision. It was already humiliating enough being helpless in front of his brother, but now he was in front of thirty other classmates. And he doubted they would believe his psychic ability as easily as his brother did. Maybe if he could just leave the room before the vision took hold, he could play it off like he just had to go to the bathroom.

He opened his mouth to excuse himself when the pain suddenly became ten times worse. Leaning onto the chalk board for support, he loudly groaned as he pressed his head into the heals of his hands.

"Look, the geek's brain is finally about to explode," one student commented, only to be silence by a glare from the teacher.

"Sam, what hurts?" Mrs. Howard asked as she cautiously approached the young man.

Unable to respond, Sam slide down the wall. Just when he thought he couldn't take anymore, the pain disappeared in a flash of light.

Dean was standing in front of him, his back turned towards him. It was obvious they were outside by the slight breeze that filled the air. It was horribly overcast, making it impossible to see more than three feet in front of him. Without the moon or stars to help, he could only see his brother's silhouette, but he knew without question it was Dean.

There was a soft rustle of leaves by him. Dean turned around and looked at him straight in the eye.

"Did you find it?" Dean whispered, obviously trying to stay hidden from whatever they were hunting.

He didn't say anything, couldn't even if he wanted to. Without warning, a large gunshot rang through the air and Dean instantly fell to his knees. Shock masked Dean's face, only to be quickly replaced by pain when he placed his hands over chest.

Without a sound, Dean fell into the soft grass, his eyes blankly staring up at his killer.

As quickly as it came, the vision left, leaving Sam ill and shaken. Blinking his eyes against the harsh light, he was met with the round face of the school nurse.

"Sweetie, can you hear me?" she asked in an overly cheerful tone.

Unable to get enough air into his lunges, Sam looked around and found he was still in front of thirty curious classmates.

Oh God, Dean.

Bolding shoving the nurse out of his way, he quickly crawled to the nearest trashcan and promptly threw up in it.

Dean was going to die.

He never heard the loud squeals of disgust from his fellow classmates.

Not Dean. Anyone but Dean.

He needed to stop it. He wasn't sure how, but for both their sakes he was going to stop it.

-:-

"At least these visions are good for something," Dean commented as he drummed his fingers on the wheel of the impala. Smirking, he glanced over at his brother, only to find him looking back incredulously. "Getting us out of school…" he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"They almost called an ambulance," Sam snapped back. He couldn't believe his brother some times. He had yet another _painful_ vision about Dean's impending death, and all he could do was make a joke about getting out of school early.

Dean simply rolled his eyes at the retort. _Don't remind me. _Keeping one eye on the road, he turned towards his brother and said, "You should be thanking me for that by the way. If it wasn't for me right now, you'd be in the ER having doctors probe inside that head of yours." _Maybe they still should. _Who knew what type of havoc the visions were wracking on his little brother's brain.

Not that he ever showed it, but Dean was petrified when someone called him down to the nurse's station about his Sammy. Hell, part of him still was. It most definitely on his top ten list of things he didn't want to do again…ever.

"You told them I forgot to take my anti-psychotic meds this morning!" Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

"It worked," Dean innocently replied, even though inside he was sneering at his evilness. _Dean: one. Sammy: zero._

Sighing loudly, Sam threw himself against the back of the seat. "But now half the school thinks I'm crazy," he said as he crossed his arms.

"Maybe you are," Dean shrugged. _Burn._ _And another point for Dean._

"Haha. Very funny," Sam scoffed with a roll of his eyes afterwards. The drive back home continued in silence, until Sam almost begged, "Can we tell Dad _now_?" Hopefully, at this point Dean would realize the significance of the his premonitions. Obviously, they weren't going to go away until they were dealt with somehow.

Dean didn't even blink. "No." The tone of Dean's voice left no room for refusal. "We'll just tell him a pep assembly school let out early," he stated, staring straight ahead at the road in front of him.

"At noon?" Sam asked incredulously. Sure, they've gotten out of school early before, but only by several minutes. Hardly worth even getting excited over.

"He won't notice."

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence, lost in their thoughts about the visions, their father, and most importantly each other.

-:-

"I don't like this," Sam whispered, sidestepping yet another headstone right before he was about to topple over it. It was horribly overcast that night, making it impossible to see more than three feet in front of him. The only light he had to go by was Dean's flashlight, which was dim and about to run out of batteries. They didn't want to alert the spirit that they were searching for its corpse.

"It's a simple salt and burn, Sammy. You've been doing these for years," Dean stated, obviously avoiding the bigger issue at hand.

Scrubbing a hand over his face as he dodged out of the way of outcropping headstone, Sam muttered, "It's not about that and you know it." He should have never agreed to go on the hunt. He had two visions in less than a day, one only several hours earlier, and both were about Dean dying. _How on earth did he let his father and Dean talk him into coming tonight?_ "I don't like this," Sam repeated, unable to get the image of Dean's corpse out of his head. "C'mon let's go home."

Dean loudly sighed, visibly fed up with Sam's constant doubt. Spinning on his heel, Dean shone the flashlight directly in Sam's face. "Look, as I already told you in the apartment, in your vision I was shot, _right_?" Dean paused for a moment for Sam to nod. "Tonight, we are hunting a _spirit. _Never in my life have I heard of a spirit that goes around shooting people." Somehow Dean managed to whisper it all as if he was yelling.

"But-"

Dean instantly cut Sam off, tired of hearing all the 'what ifs' Sam's mind could produce. "You said I talked to the killer before he shot me, like I knew him or something. Well, I don't know about you, but I don't know any spirits. At least none I would talk friendly to." Hopefully that type of reasoning would quell any doubts Sam had. They had a job to do before sunrise, and Sam was making that impossible.

Not waiting for a response, Dean spun back around, shining his flashlight on the headstones in front of him. When he heard Sam start to follow, he let out a sigh of relief. Finally, he got the kid to shut up.

"I still don't see why we had to agree to splitting up from Dad," Sam grumbled beneath his breath but loud enough to be heard.

_Crap._ Maybe if he just ignored him Sam would get the picture.

"He was never in my vision. We should have stuck close by him," Sam stated louder, now too annoying to ignore.

"Because if we had argued he would have thought something is wrong," Dean replied condescendingly with an obvious edge to his voice. An edge that screamed _shut the hell up or I'll shoot myself._ He didn't bother to turn around, knowing all he would see is the same arrogant, stern face that his father had ninety percent of the time. He hated it when his sweet, little brother looked liked his old man.

"Something _is_ wrong. You're going to die!" Sam exclaimed, momentarily forgetting that they were on the look out for a very stealthy spirit.

_That's it._ Dean quickly spun around and stormed towards his brother. Standing up straight so he could tower over his brother, he pushed his finger into the twerp's chest. "No I'm not," he whispered, enunciating every syllable with a push of his finger.

It didn't matter how many visions the kid had, Dean doubted he would ever truly believe them. If he believed them then that would make them real. And if they were real that meant they had a serious problem. A problem Dean never wanted to face. Sure, part of him was scared about dying, but that part wasn't nearly as big as the part that feared Sam might be something supernatural.

Sam never got a chance to respond. As if sensing Dean's deepest fear, Sam groaned as he grabbed the bridge of his nose.

"…Sammy?" Dean asked, the anger in his voice instantly replaced with concern. Dean stared in horror as Sam's eyes rolled in the back of his head.

Sam merely moaned and went limp in Dean's arms.

They were in a cemetery. He could finally tell that much by the large headstone behind Dean's fallen body.

Dean, wake up! Snap out of it!

The words were never uttered in the silent graveyard, even though Sam was screaming them. The scene altered in a flash of white and Sam could finally see who was holding the gun.

No. Dear God, no.

Behind the end of the smoking gun, young Sam stood, his eyes black and soulless.

NO!

Unable to move, Dean silently stared at his brother, waiting for him to snap out of whatever trance the vision had him in. He held Sam up by his forearms, praying to anyone who would listen to take the curse of visions off his little brother.

"NO!" Sam screamed at the top of his lungs, still trapped inside his head.

Without warning, Dean flew back from his brother, his head cruelly smacking on the edge of a tombstone. Dean soundlessly collapsed on the ground, a trail of blood streaming down his face. His last conscious thought was of his brother and how he hoped the spirit wouldn't get the drop on him too.

What he didn't know was that the invisible energy that pulled him away from his brother was not from the spirit.

It was from Sam.

Like a freak adrenaline rush, Sammy had tapped into one more power. One more power to hide. One more power to fear. One more power for the demon to use and manipulate against the young boy's will.

Sam blinked against the darkness. The visions were ending up to be a real bitch. He wished there was more of a warning to them…besides the unimaginable pain of course. "…Dean," he breathed, compulsively swallowing at the thought of his brother's corpse. He tensed when there was no response.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he jumped to his feet. He didn't care about the spirit anymore. He wanted to get the hell out of there. He frantically searched the cemetery, all of his logic replaced by fear. "Dean!!!" he desperately screamed, his voice cracking.

When Sam finally spotted his brother, he felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Oh God.

Completely unaware, Dean was lying against a large tombstone. Not moving.

Just like…oh God. Please no.

Trembling, Sam backed away from Dean's still body, his head shaking in denial.

Not Dean. Anyone but Dean.

Without another thought, Sam fled.

-:-

Thirty Minutes Later

John shifted his older son's weight on his shoulders. _Damn, Dean was heavy. _"Sam!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. His voice echoed through the empty graveyard. "Sammy!" There was no response. John didn't see a sign of life for the past twenty minutes.

He needed to find his other son and get his children out of there. Almost an hour ago he had found Zachary Turner's tombstone and torched the body, only to discover it wasn't a spirit after all.

It was a demon. And without the proper ritual and objects they were nothing but bait in the cemetery.

"Sammy!" John called out once again, scavenging through the graveyard as quick as he could with another two hundred pounds on his shoulders. _Son of a bitch. _Dean needed to get to a hospital. He found his unconscious son completely deserted.

Sam would never willingly leave Dean. A cold feeling of dread sat in the father's stomach.

He wouldn't give up. He lost his wife to a demon, there was no chance in hell he would lose his son to one too. But his other son needed help and fast. John had never felt so helpless in his entire life. If he continued to search for one son, he was putting the other son's physical health on the line. But if he left for the hospital, he was practically feeding his youngest son to a demon.

"Sam!" he called out one final time, praying for an answer.

That was when he heard it. Soft mutterings drifted with the breeze through the graveyard.

Fearing it could be the demon, he set his oldest son down against a tombstone and reached for the holy water. A followed the soft murmurs to their source. The sight made him drop the holy water and rush to the boy leaning against a tree.

Sam was sitting against the trunk his head burrowed into his knees. Even in the dark, John could tell he was violently trembling. Kneeling down in front of his son, John reached out and lifted Sam's chin, only to be met with the tear-filled eyes of his little boy.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to. I swear to God I didn't mean to," Sam whispered between his sobs.

"Sam, calm down," John ordered. He needed to leave, and he couldn't carry both of his sons out of there. "What are you talking about?"

John's question seemed to upset Sam even more. "Oh God, he…I…I…"

Sam was losing it. John had to get him level-minded again. Placing his hands on his son's arms, he calmly asked, "You what, Sam?"

"I…I killed him," Sam breathed, tears streaming down his face. "I killed Dean." Fresh tears pouring out his eyes, he broke out of his father's grasp and burrowed his head into his knees.

Upon hearing Sam's confession, John immediately grabbed Sam's arms again and forced the boy to look at him. "Sam, listen to me."

Sam shook his head, whispering, "I'm sorry…so sorry…"

Slightly shaking his son, John yelled, "Sammy, snap out of it! Dean isn't dead. We have to leave now, or else he will be."

More tears poured out of the kid's eyes. "Yes he is…I saw-"

John immediately cut him off. "No, Sam. He's not. He's just unconscious. We have to leave now!" Every second spent calming Sam down was another second Dean could easily slip into a coma. John stood up and headed towards Dean, trusting Sam was coherent enough to understand what was happening.

"Dean's not-" Sam started, wiping his nose with his sleeve.

"No, he's just unconscious," he briskly answered as he made his way back to where Dean was. "We have to go. It's not a spirit, it's a demon," he explained as he hoisted Dean up on his shoulders.

Speechless, Sam merely nodded and followed.

-:-

Sam and John stared up at the doctor as if he had all the answers in the world. And at that point, he did, in _their _world at least.

"Your son's going to be fine," the doctor stated as he glanced over the file in front of him.

Sam visibly relaxed against his father.

"You sure?" John asked, eyebrows raised. He spent enough of his life in hospitals to know sometimes mistakes were made.

"Yes, we still want to keep him overnight for observation. He may have a headache for a while and some short term memory loss, but that's to be expected." The doctor closed his file and looked down at the family in front of him. "He's awake if you'd like to see him."

Without even asking for the room number, Sam jumped up and ran down the hall.

-:-

"So you don't remember _anything_?" Sam asked sitting next to Dean's bed.

"Nope," Dean shrugged. He always hated being in hospitals. But the only thing he hated more than being resigned to a hospital bed was if Sam was in the bed instead. "At least not anything in the past two days. So what happened? Anything interesting?" John had already filled the boy in on how the spirit ended up being a demon, but, for some reason, Sam seemed disappointed that Dean couldn't remember anything that happened in the past forty-eight hours. It made Dean think something important occurred and for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was.

Sam smirked. The next couple days were going to be so much fun. So, Dean forgot Sam had extremely painful visions that told the future, no big deal. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to tell him again for a very long time. "Well, I won the lottery and now a millionaire," Sam said, a mischievous grin growing on his face.

Dean slightly laughed at that. "Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, little bro."

-:-

Eight Years Later

Sam stood in front of his brother, feeling like he was fourteen years old again. "I have these nightmares."

"I've noticed," Dean answered, as if Sam just said the most obvious thing in the world.

_Here we go…again._ "And sometimes they come true."

-:-

**Prompt: **an AU fic where Sam's TK and visions come on while he's still living with Dean and John, and preferably are not only painful and haywire but cause angst (ex he manages to hurt one of them by mistake or something). Bonus points for things going wrong at school!


End file.
